Dedicated to T. C. Turtle for winning last year's
Of Caverns and Casters' physical copy giveaway
(oh, and being a great friend, but pshhh, who cares about that part? (;  )

As I step into the quickly destabilizing portal, blue suffuses my vision. A constant whispering fills my ear, like the low buzz of insects humming: måserte desevæ, desevæ ammenia, måserte desevæ... Violent waves crash around me, currents filled with the debris of Idyne's dissolving pearl. Something swipes past my cheek, just hard enough to make me wonder if her portal is going to break me apart after all.

Then everything goes black and silent. The complete and utter nothingness of it should make me reel, but I can't move. I am suspended in a gaping maw of everlasting death, as if this place sucks in everything that is and spits nothing back out in return. It would freeze my blood if I were sure I still had any.

As quickly as it seized me, the blackness releases me. I drag in one breath after another, head spinning, legs wobbling. Vaguely, I realize my eyes are still closed. Somehow that seems light in comparison to the abyss of before.

The morning sunshine blinds me when I open my eyes, as though I'm some brave bat seeing the outside world for the first time. Leaves litter the forest floor. Tufts of grass and thick, old roots weave in through the holes of their cover. No snow coats the ground; no frost ices the bramble bushes. The air is almost warm despite the winter morning. A leaf floats down from a mostly-barren branch, but the air rings with bird songs I've never heard before.

Time itself seems to have rewound. The sun here is barely rising, while in Draó, it had already secured a hold in the sky. I'm disoriented, my single step through the portal having so thoroughly immersed me in a different setting.

This is Morineaux.

A grin breaks out on my face. I made it. I braved the portal and lived to tell the tale. "Aster!" I call. He has to be close. There can't have been more than a couple minute's gap between us stepping through. I cup my hands around my mouth. "Aster!"

The calls of the forest are the only response.

A spiral shower of sparks erupts like an impossible doorway five feet in front of me, and Idyne steps into the world like I might step into my living room. The sparks fizzle away behind her, and my mind demands an explanation for how any of this could be possible. How can matter from one point in space be translated to another point without bending the rules of time itself?

I shove the thought aside. Forcing magic to fit my understanding of physiks yields nothing but headaches. "Idyne!"

She spins, blonde braids flaring out in a circle, dark eyes alight with mischief. "Ah! You are close. I was worried it might have thrown you out somewhere else."

As I step forward, the dying leaves crunch under my bare feet. My forgotten boots swing in my hand, and I kneel to pull them on. "Why would it do that?"

She shrugs, lightfooting toward me. "I told you. It's shifty."

Twenty feet to my left, someone else stumbles out of magic sparks. My head snaps up. A boy in a simple cotton shirt with a mess of black hair leans palm out against a tree, catching his breath.

"Jacin!" I stand, hurrying toward him. "Are you alright?"

He nods, still bent over.

I glance back at Idyne. "How is he here?"

Her nose wrinkles. "Silly. I told you I changed the spell so any number of us could go through."

"Yes, but—" Not how. Why? My mind flashes to the dark intensity of mine and his almost-kiss, the skin-crawling feeling of his hand on my shoulder.

Jacin pushes up, a tense smile at his lips. "Idyne told me you two had found somewhere more interesting to be."

I nod, his words sparking my memory. After telling me last-minute I could go through the portal, Idyne had said something to me about getting him, but at the time, it hadn't registered.

"So this is Morineaux." He glances around. "Doesn't look like much."

"This isn't their city. We need to find their castle." Even if the portal shifted and Aster came out at a different point, he'll be headed home. I turn to Idyne. "Do you have any way of knowing—"

"Leavi?" Jacin says.

"What?" I glance back to follow his pointing finger.

Thirty feet through the trees, atop a small rise, stands the most majestic creature I've ever seen. I'd think it a mountain stag from my High Valley homeland except for its deep red fur and antlers that spread as wide as a man stands tall. It regards us, head high. Then, dismissing us, it lowers its head to gather a mouthful of grass.

I can't keep my eyes off it.

As I reach for my sketchbook, its gaze snaps over its shoulder, and it darts forward. Wind rushes between us as it tears past, disappearing into the foliage.

Jacin starts to say something, but I grab his arm and pull him behind a tree.

Idyne scrambles behind me. "Why are we hiding?" she whispers.

I put a finger to my lips. A creature like that doesn't bolt for no reason.

Leaves crinkle, and I peek around the tree. A giant of a man tops the ridge, layered in thick animal hides, a deer's rack adorning his helm. His wild red hair lies in tangles to his shoulders, and an enormous axe hangs on his back. His eyes narrow as he looks around. I freeze.

"Jyuka!" the man calls behind him. "Dumol schto schtosha sklyshol."

More footsteps crunch through the leaves behind the rise, and I pull back. Heart hammering, I press my lips to Idyne's ear. "We need to leave. Now."

She nods, but all three of us stay huddled behind the tree. Another voice rises in the foreign tongue, and my grip on Jacin's wrist tightens. The only thing staying here does is let them get closer.

I meet Jacin's eyes. Ready? I mouth.

He nods, throat bobbing.

Ready? I mouth to Idyne.

Her eyes flick up and to the left, her head shakes, and then she nods, looking at me.

Good enough. I shoot to my feet, and my companions follow.

"Ajya!" the warrior calls, and my pace doubles. We crash through the undergrowth, dodging branches and zig-zagging around trees. The warriors' footfalls thunder somewhere behind us. Twigs and brambles whip by, catching at my hair and clothes. My pulse thrums in my ears as my frenzied mind tries to work out our next move. Run until they give up? What are the chances of that?

Abrï.

The word pops into my mind like a thought unbidden, and my steps stutter. Jacin yanks me back into a run, and I follow his lead.

Agantar.

A voice whispers just below the level of hearing yet is clearly audible in my mind. I stumble over a root, and Idyne catches my arm, pulling me to my feet.

A'mraê.

It's the weathered rasp of a grandfather, the echo of ancient caverns, the groan of dry, gnarled wood. It's gentle and forever and unknowable.

Escatiris.

"It's this way!" I angle off through the woods, the other two following after.

"What is?" Jacin calls.

Out of breath and unsure myself, I don't bother answering. The grandfather whisper repeats itself to me. The steps of the warriors still crash in the distance, and my companions still pant alongside me, but I tune it out. As I follow the voice, its words get louder and louder until it's loud enough I almost can't bear it.

I skid to a stop in a clearing. "Here," I murmur.

"Leavi, what's here? We need to keep moving." Jacin tugs my wrist, but I shake out of his grasp.

The voice hums its ancient words, and the vibration thrums in my chest. I have no idea who this voice is, no idea what it means, but I'm not scared of it. It's like the warmth of the hearth, the assurance of being home. The words aren't exterior sounds; they are inside me. They are mine. The feeling presses up inside me, and my lips part to release it. "Abrï agantar a'mraê, escatiris!"

Across the clearing, wood groans, and a circle of the forest floor lifts to a right angle against the ground. I gape at the trapdoor.